


Small Awoo

by Scorpius_Wears_Short_Skirts



Category: Helluva Boss (Web Series)
Genre: Adoption, Blitzo has no idea what he is doing, Family Fluff, Headcanon, Hellhounds, Mild Gore, Orphans, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:35:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22074853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scorpius_Wears_Short_Skirts/pseuds/Scorpius_Wears_Short_Skirts
Summary: Blitzø wasn't about to go risking his life for some random baby in the middle of a cleanse. He had a safe spot hidden in a dumpster and he wasn't going to move for anything. Shitty as they were, angels wereangels. They wouldn't hurt a kid. They probably wouldn't hurt a kid.The cry became shrill and more distressed."God fucking damn it." Blitzø muttered to himself.
Relationships: Blitzo & Loona (Helluva Boss)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 187





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is short as fuck but have it.

It wasn't rare that Blitzø was caught outside during an extermination. After the fire he was functionally homeless and though it was easy to find a shitty job in Hell he didn't want just any shitty job. Minimum wage had barely risen and it sure as fuck wasn't enough to cover an apartment by himself without either working two jobs at once or putting up with some bullshit roommate. It didn't matter if you were good at hiding.

What was rare in Hell was hearing a baby cry somewhere in the distance. Only species native to Hell could procreate, Imps, Hellhounds, the original hellborn Demons and in a few cases Fallen Angels. The mass population of Hell was composed of the warped souls of Sinners who could not make little sinner babies because they were technically dead. 

Blitzø wasn't about to go risking his life for some random baby in the middle of a cleanse. He had a safe spot hidden under four garbage bags and what was likely a corpse in a dumpster and he wasn't going to move for anything. Shitty as they were, angels were _angels_. They wouldn't hurt a kid. They probably wouldn't hurt a kid.

The cry became shrill and more distressed.

"God fucking damn it." Blitzø muttered to himself, checking for a clear coast before kicking the bags and yep, definitely a corpse, off of himself. 

The imp climbed up and out of the dumpster, hugging the wall and taking every back alley he knew of as he followed the sound. Bottles and syringes crunched under his boots as he went, but he paid it no mind. He had given himself a mission, stupid as he knew it was, and he was getting to that loud ass baby even if an angel came down to shank his ass as soon as he got there. Not like he had much to live for anyway. The least he could do was give the kid a chance.

When Blitzø found the source of the crying he was horrified to find that he was right. Angels wouldn't hurt a kid, they'd just slaughter the parents right in front of them and leave traumatized little orphans instead. But hey, the little white puppy didn't look physically harmed and maybe she was young enough that she'd forget all about being knee deep in her parents' guts and clinging to a headless stuffed doll like it was the last kind thing she knew. It probably was.

_Blitzø wished he could forget._

The angels seemed to have moved on from this district, Blitzø noted as he didn't feel any sort of holy presence in the immediate area. Still, he stayed cautious and ready to bolt as he approached the still-screaming baby. Well not quite a baby. She looked like a toddler but Hellhounds aged weird so Blitzø couldn't place what age she looked like. 

"Hey kid!" Blitzø called. "Shut up." 

It only made the puppy bawl harder, but he had her attention so he would count it as progress.

"Can you walk?" 

As if to spite him the puppy chose then to slip in a puddle of blood, staining her fur and little pink nightdress dark red. She stopped crying for a moment, looking more dazed than anything, then glared at Blitzø like it was his fault that she had a sudden fistfight with gravity.

Blitzø rolled his eyes and walked over, picking her up before she could do it herself regardless of the fact he had blood on his clothes now too. He had just been in with the garbage though so it wasn't like he was getting any filthier than he already was. 

"Okay kiddo. It looks like your whole pack is one huge pile of meatloaf so I'm gonns take you to a Hellhound shelter and they'll take care of you until some bastard needs an attack dog." He explained as he walked, aware that the child probably only understood maybe half of what he was saying. "Better than sitting in your mom and dad waiting to starve to death, right?"

He got her all the way to the shelter, then turned around. He didn't want to just get rid of her. Who knows what sort of bastard would end up buying her? What were the odds somebody decent might buy a young female Hellhound in Hell. Much more likely that some sicko would take her. No, Blitzø decided, she would be much safer with him.

He'd just have to finally get a job.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blitzø figures out a temporary living situation.

Blitzø wasn't exactly prepared to take on a child. Still, he had a small amount of money, wasn't above shoplifting, and since the recent extermination had wiped out a good third of his usual haunts he had a few potential places to squat as long as nobody fought him over it. He also didn't have to worry about whether or not the puppy could have solids since he knew she had teeth already. He knew this because she had bitten him. Hard.

"Okay kid, you gotta work with me. I'm trying to be a goddamn functioning adult for you. Don't be a living condom commercial over a wardrobe change." Blitzø huffed as he wiped his bleeding hand on the puppy's new(ish) onesie. 

He'd snatched a random bunch of kid's clothes for her to try on and brought her to a dressing room with the intention of returning the dress she'd started in instead of whatever fit her best. She wasn't a very cooperative kid, sadly.

"Eww!" The puppy cried, trying to push the imp's bloody hand away.

"Oh now you talk." Blitzø rolled his eyes. "You made the blood. You can fucking wear it."

"Don't say fuck." She scolded. "Mommy says its not nice."

"Well mommy's dead and I can say whatever I fucking want." Blitzø replied dryly, though he instantly regretted it the second he noticed the puppy start to tear up. "Shit. No. Don't start that. We're in public!"

It didn't stop her from wailing, so Blitzø picked her up again and hauled her out of the store, setting off shoplifting sensors on the way out. He ignored them. The only mattered if you couldn't outrun the store staff that didn't actually care enough to chase for long.

Fortunately it was Hell and nobody thought twice about an imp running down the street with a screeching kid in his arms. Usually that would be an unfortunate situation but in this specific case it was a very good thing instead of a very bad thing. Blitzø had good intentions. He almost always had good intentions, or at least neutral ones, but being an imp meant people were usually surprised by that fact. 

When Blitzø ran out of steam he had to slow down, ducking into backstreets toward an apartment complex. By this point the puppy had calmed, tuckering herself out. Blitzø transfered her to his tail, holding her around the middle that way he could climb up a broken fire escape. He broke a window to a studio apartment he knew would be empty now, courtesy of the angels, and looked around. 

The place had been looted already, but it had a bed and a bathroom and would keep a roof over their heads for at least a week before the landlord noticed something was up. It would do for now.

"Welcome to the home of the week!" Blitzø cheered, hoping his forced enthusiasm would rub off. 

He checked the bed for any unsavory surprises and found it clean enough to toss the puppy onto. She landed with a bounce and a giggle, having forgotten her earlier upset for the moment. Blitzø envied her ability to just be in the moment. He could fake it of course, as any seasoned clown should, but to have a child's ability to just exist and not question it was a gift. A gift that faded far too fast with age.

"So now that you're talking," Blitzø bowed dramatically and extended his hand. "I'm Blitz, the O is silent… Not that you care since you probably can't read. What is your name?" 

"Loona." Loona answered, sniffing the hand instead of shaking it.

Blitzø laughed, taking his hand back to slap his own knee. "I don't know why I didn't expect that. You're a dog! You stay here. I'm gonna go see if the loser who lived here has anything to eat."

The fridge was stocked full of beer and a few various takeout containers that had sat there long enough to rot. The freezer wasn't much better, but did have half a box of microwavable taquitos hidden behind several bricks of cocaine.

"Well I'll have volcano ass but kids can eat anything right?" Blitzø asked himself, almost expecting a snarky answer but of course none came. His sister wasn't around anymore, he reminded himself. He had to get used to the fact that when he talked to himself that nobody was going to be there to respond. Losing himself in his thoughts for a moment he hugged the cold box of shitty tex mex to his chest, glaring dejectedly at the floor. His eyes stung but he wasn't going to cry. She didn't like it when he cried.

"What's volcano ass?" Loona asked, having ignored the order to stay where she had been left.

Blitzø looked over, first startled and then oddly relieved. He put what was left in the box in the microwave, guessing a time for it instead of reading the instructions.

"It's when fire shoots out of your ass." Blitzø joked.

Loona laughed.

Fuck, he'd missed the laughter.


End file.
